Happy Little Bubble
by accio-ambition
Summary: After "making pancakes" for the first time, Emma and Killian bask and talk about the new normal. DITLOT universe, missing scene.


**a/n: Hello friends. As promised, here is one of the products of post-DITLOT adrenaline rush. It sort of fills in the blank I unintentionally left out once Emma and Killian did the horizontal tango in DITLOT. If you hadn't already guessed, I'm not very good with smut scenes, which is why you get a before and after with no during. Also, this is un-beta'd. ENJOY.**

It's got to be close to mid-afternoon from the way the sun peeks through the curtains. Not that she could actually tell. He's the sailor. She's just there to film his superstitions and nautical talk.

The back of her knees are beginning to sweat and there's just an overabundance of heat beneath the blankets. Emma kicks the quilt back, at least trying to expose her legs to the cool air, and with the popping of her joints, she winces. The soreness of her muscles hurts in the loveliest of ways.

An arm creeps around her waist, pulling her over and scrunching up the covers so the human heater beside her can tug her against his chest.

"Good morning, love," Killian grumbles, his voice rocky and muffled, half of his mouth hiding in the fluff of the pillow.

"More like good afternoon," she murmurs back. Still, she snuggles into him, pulling the blanket back over her body now that she's had a reprieve from sauna temperatures. She'd somehow forgotten that, throughout the night, all of her clothes had ended up in the dryer or on the ground nearby. It's a bit chilly now.

(That fucking human heater, always making her come back to him.)

"Mm, we were up this morning. I just didn't think to greet you until now," he reasons, gripping her tightly. His hand slides from her waist to chest and brushes a thumb beneath her breast. Emma inhales sharply through her nose, surprised at how cold his fingers are when the rest of his body is so warm. "And what a good morning it is."

The giggles come on suddenly and with little sigh of relief. She sounds hysterical, trying to muffle the noise by hiding the bottom half of her face with the blanket. Turning over her shoulder, Emma tries to make eye contact with Killian. "We did that, didn't we?" she asks quietly, laughter still evident in her voice.

"Yes, we did." He seems just as happily surprised as she is, his thumb skimming tender skin. His hand moves further down, across the muscles of her stomach until it rests between her thighs, asking a silent questions. "I'd be happy to give a repeat performance if your memory needs refreshing."

Emma hums and flips over to face him. His arm resettles on the small of her back, the other sliding beneath her neck and wrapping around her shoulders. His eyes are still closed, but he's got a dreamy grin on his lips.

"Maybe later," she says, burrowing into his chest. The coarse hair there scratches at her nose. Killian starts tugging at the ends of her hair, a sound reverberating deeply in his chest, like a cat purring. Hearing the noise makes Emma sigh. "Let's just bask for a minute."

"I'm amenable to that plan." His fingers begin to comb through her hair, untangling the knots he made last night. The moment is calming, so much so that it nearly makes her fall back to sleep. But his hands move from her hair up to her neck, his fingers tracing along the hickeys he made the night before. She watches Killian open his eyes, watches his eyes focus in on her, bright blue shooting right through her. the pads of his fingers lightly tap at each one. "This is a lovely color on you," he whispers.

"Stop," Emma groans, pushing at his chest and laughing. His grip on her tightens, pulling her back to him. "How am I supposed to leave this house now? How am I supposed to face Liam? Or Henry?" she asks. "How am I supposed to face about in this town with these marks on my neck? You know they're going to asking who did it."

Killian shrugs, displacing her head from his shoulder. "You tell them whatever you want. I have no shame in telling people that these marks are from me." He leans closer to her, and, for a moment, Emma thinks he's going to instigate a repeat performance as he promised. Instead, his nose dives to the skin of her neck, the tip of it finding unblemished skin. "Mm, but you make it so simple and easy. I feel like I just must have you, must claim you."

Giggles begin anew as Emma pushes him back again. "Whoa, down boy."

"I know, I know." His head comes back up and their eyes match gazes. Somehow, even with him so close, she can still see his wink to her right before his lips press sweetly against hers. "At least it's cold enough for turtlenecks and scarves to be in season," he says.

"Well that's something." With a few more unintelligible grumbles, Emma flips on her back. She sighs and leans her head against his shoulder. "If the boys find out, they'll come for you," she says quietly, the sheets susurrating beneath her as she turns to face him. "You know that, right?"

Killian shrugs again, gently knocking the corner of his shoulder into her temple. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it." He kisses the top of her head. "In the meantime, I find myself a tad bit hungry."

But she knows he's not hungry for Granny's, or any food for that matter. Not with the way his pupils are dilated when she catches a glimpse of them, or with how what started off as a chaste press of lips is rapidly turning into something more heated. "We should do something about that," Emma murmurs, letting her hand drag down his bicep to his forearm. "Can't let you waste away."

Chuckling, Killian says, "Indeed not."

His body comes to hover over hers, elbows by her ears as his hips settle against hers. She feels his smile against her lips and knows there's a matching one decorating her mouth. Emma feels him begin to grow against her thigh, encouraging him to come closer with a roll of her hips.

But the heavy thudding against his bedroom door interrupts any activities that they may have engaged in. Killian groans and falls next to Emma on his back.

"For the love of god, little brother, it's nearly noon," Liam shouts through the wood. "I need your help cleaning off the _Jolly_ 's deck before it rains again this afternoon!"

Killian gives a frustrated sigh. "Give me a moment," he replies, scrubbing at his eyes before dragging his hand down his face. "I had a long night."

Even through the door, Emma can hear Liam's scoff. "Of course you did. I'm sure Netflix kept you up until all hours." The floor creaks under Liam's body weight and she hears him take a step away before taking a step back. "Hurry up, arse, and we can try and stop by Granny's on the way."

"Aye, fine, go." Killian groans again before his brother's footfalls grow quieter and noise begins to echo up from the kitchen.

"You're lucky your brother isn't one of those siblings to barge in," Emma says, scooting up the bed until she can lean up against the headboard. She pulls the quilt up and over her chest, watching Killian ease himself out of bed.

She thinks he says something like "I can honestly say that that is not usually the case," but she's a bit distracted by the image of him in all his naked glory before her. She hadn't really had the chance to take it all in last night before, but seeing it in the current light of day - honestly, it's a miracle she lasted against his advances and their chemistry as she did.

(And now that she's had a taste of what could be, Emma isn't too intent on letting it go.)

From across the room, Killian looks at her, pulling up and zipping a pair of jeans. He winks at her before turning back toward his dresser and rifling through a drawer for a shirt.

"You just gonna leave me here?" she asks, and while she would, at some point in time, like to spend a day or more lolling about in his bed, today isn't the time for that.

"I assumed you'd want to make a quiet exit, what with Liam downstairs," Killian says, his head poking out from the hole in his shirt. A salacious smirk overtakes his face as he comes to lean over and kiss her cheek. "Or you can stay in bed all day and I'll hurry through the work and come back for another round."

Emma chuckles, scooting to her own side of the mattress, pulling the blanket along with her. "As much as I would love to, I do have a child to pick up from a sleepover," she reminds him. Bending down, Emma grabs the shirt he lent her last night. It's as she pulls it over her head that she realizes aloud, "My clothes are still in the dryer."

Something hits her in the back, and it's when she turns to see a pair of sweatpants that things makes sense. "You can get them on the way out," Killian says. "Those'll be a tad big on you."

She pulls them on and stands, rolling the waistband far too many times before she can spot her toes amid the billows of cotton below.

"God, you weren't kidding."

He turns from searching for a pair of socks. A funny little expression crosses his face, his head tilting to the side as he considers her. Emma's brows raise, silently asking, _What?_

"As unusual at this may sound," Killian starts, "those look good on you." He points toward her neck, effectively ruining the soft possessive moment he had. "Not as good as those, but still quite good."

Shaking her head, Emma can't help her stupid smile. "God, you're such a man," she mumbles, heading toward the door. He catches up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back for a second.

"Aye, a man who's spent the night ravishing the most beautiful woman he's ever seen." The words are whispered right in her ear, the bite of his teeth skimming her skin. It causes shivers up and down her body, her tongue peeking out from between her lips as she pushes him away.

(Otherwise, she's not getting Henry from his sleepover _at all_.)

After a quick kiss to the cheek, Emma jogs out of his bedroom and down the stairs to find Liam in the kitchen. The morning's newspaper is spread out on the kitchen counter for his perusal. He glances up, his mouth open to surely admonish Killian for his laziness this morning, but his jaw goes slack when he sees her. She watches his eyes trace down her person - the bruises on her neck, the clothes she's wearing, the mess that is her hair.

It's exactly the reaction she was hoping for.

Still, his expression makes her blush, the heat rising on her cheeks, but smiles good naturedly. "Good morning, Liam," Emma greets him cheerfully before ducking into the laundry room. Her clothes are still in the machine, a little wrinkled but otherwise unharmed from last night's wet outing.

Soft footsteps grow louder, and Emma turns to the door just as Killian enters the room. She smiles at him before picking up the hem of the shirt she's wearing and lifting it up. A hand halts her and brings it back down to her waist.

"As much as I enjoy your enthusiasm, I really must help my brother on the ship," Killian quips. "Or at least lever his jaw off the ground."

"I was going to change and give you these back, you horny ass," Emma responds, slapping him on the arm.

"Nonsense. Take them home." His hands come to rest at her waist, swaying them from side to side a little bit. It reminds her of the night they first kissed, at the wrap party what seems like a longer time ago than it actually was. "A little something to remember last night," he says with a small part of his trademark swagger.

"I suppose you're right." Emma leans into him, letting her head come to rest on his chest. She bites her lip, debating whether or not to tell him what she's thinking.

She goes for it.

"You'll need something to wear when you've got to walk home next time."

She can feel his body tense in surprise. "Next time?" he asks eagerly.

Stepping back from his embrace, Emma nods. She gestures to her neck. "I demand payback for these."

He laughs. "I look forward to your vengeance."

"So do I." With a final kiss, Emma grabs her clothes from the top of the dryer and heads out of the laundry room. "Have fun today," she tells both Jones boys on her way past the kitchen. She opens the front door with a final, "Bye, Liam!" before heading home to find a scarf **.**


End file.
